


A Guide to the Language of Affection, by Stiles Stilinski

by sky_reid



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Character Study, Confused Stiles, Developing Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Mentions of past child abuse, Relationship Study, Romance, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, briefest mentions of past canon minor character deaths, inexplicit sexual content, okay technically they're underage but like who the fuck even cares, stiles is socially awkward, this contains literally no dialogue how do i do these things, where the fuck did all these words come from
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-29
Updated: 2013-06-29
Packaged: 2017-12-16 12:33:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/862080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sky_reid/pseuds/sky_reid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Love is when he lets you squish his face.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Guide to the Language of Affection, by Stiles Stilinski

**Author's Note:**

> i have two exams in about 5 hours, i have to learn 1,400 pages in a foreign language i don't actually speak, i am starving and am about 3min from crying over the failure that is my life, so naturally let's write fic
> 
> this is the very first time i'm writing anything in this fandom and it's naturally also the first time i'm writing this pairing so i'd be super nervous about it if i had any nervousness left in me, but i'm too stressed over my exams
> 
> idek what this story was going to be, but it totally ran out on me, idk, idk
> 
> anyway, this is for rebelsoflife on tumblr who won it in a reblog competition organized by stisaaclibrary (also on tumblr), hope you enjoy it :]

 

_A Guide to the Language of Affection,_

_by Stiles Stilinski_

 

Stiles can list every single member of the Danish royal family in under 5 minutes. He makes some pretty badass pancakes and his waffles are the tastiest he's ever had, if he does say so himself. He differentiates between 17 distinct shades of turquoise and can name any renaissance painting by title and painter from any square inch swath of canvas. He's fluent in esperanto. He can quote the Bible, even though he doesn't believe in it himself. He can't read music sheets, and yet he plays guitar well enough to be in a band (it's a secret not many people know about, his dad and maybe Scott and probably no one else still living; he doesn't play much anymore and certainly not in front of an audience – it reminds him too much of how his mom used to teach him). He also has a knack for picking out the ugliest shirt in the room, it's one of those odd talents he's inordinately proud of.

 

The point is, there are plenty of things Stiles is good, even fantastic at, for various, more or less good reasons. French is not one of them, nor is cake decorating. He can't draw to save his life and god help anyone he'd try to apply his first aid knowledge on. Most of the time, he just, well, doesn't do things he's shit at and it doesn't bother him much.

 

But then there are some things he wishes he was better at, those skills that are often needed in life and that he is constantly reminded he doesn't have.

 

Like the superhuman ability of moving gracefully, a talent that sadly avoided Stiles by such a margin it may well have gone over Antarctica. He's always admired people who could walk and run and dance with such fluidity of movement that they always looked like they were royalty at some 17th century ball, who could stand with such elegance they always seemed to be at perfect ease. Stiles himself is pretty much the exact opposite of that. He's more likely to trip over his own feet than he is to remember his own phone number, he never knows where to put his hands and he is often completely unaware of where all his limbs actually are, like he has zero control over them.

 

Another thing he's always been completely incapable of is comforting people. Hell, nine times out of ten, he doesn't even know how he would comfort himself given the opportunity. And it's not that he hasn't had enough chances to try, because he's had too many of those, thank you very much. And it's not that he hasn't tried to learn, he's read every self-help and guide book even remotely related to the topic of offering comfort. But still, somehow, whenever he's in a position where someone he cares about is hurting and he's supposed to make it better, he _wants_ to make it better, he doesn't know what to say or what to do, if he should stay or leave, talk or keep his mouth shut. Usually he just ends up with an awkward pat on the shoulder or something equally ineffective.

 

As of late, however, the shortcoming he's been most painfully aware of is his hilarious ineptitude to appropriately display affection.

 

Stiles and Isaac have been dating for just over five months now. Stiles himself is not sure how that even happened. It was a warm night during the summer break and Stiles was in the field with Scott, for what started as a bit of lacrosse and turned into a sort of werewolf sense training as the night got later and darker. Stiles was about to hurl the ball toward Scott and watch him, a little impressed and a little jealous, as he easily caught it even without seeing it for god knows which time that day. But when he went to swing the stick he found that he couldn't move it, which didn't seem to matter anyway because the ball was already whistling past his ear and towards Scott. This time, Scott didn't catch it, it flew right by him, through the goal posts with no net and off to the woods until Stiles couldn't see it anymore.

 

When he turned around, Isaac was standing behind him, a hand on Stiles' lacrosse stick and his trademark lopsided smirk in place. Stiles yanked the stick out of Isaac's at this point very loose grip, but it was more for show than out of actual annoyance. In all honesty, he quite liked Isaac. Lately, Isaac had been spending more time with him and Scott, individually or as a package deal, and Stiles thought they'd quite hit it off. Isaac was always up for fun and mischief, something Stiles could appreciate, and he liked knowing random bits of information he'd only ever be able to use in a trivia quiz, which meant that in his company Stiles felt less like the oddball being humoured by people who pitied his lack of friends and more like someone was listening to him because they actually cared. He sensed there was also a different kind of connection between them, one based on mutual understanding brought about by awkward impasses in conversation when someone accidentally mentioned something that was a perfectly innocent topic for most everyone, but off-limits for either one of them; they never talked about it, but Stiles didn't miss how Isaac would look at him in those moments, like he sympathized completely, or how Isaac's eyes always went a little softer in the corners when Stiles would nudge their knees together in a sign of support.

 

It wasn't really a surprise then that, almost an hour and a half later, when Scott declared himself tired of being ganged up on and decided to go home, Isaac didn't leave. Stiles was still a little giddy from beating Scott (with copious amount of help and despite the fact that no one was keeping score, of course) and he didn't feel in the least bit tired. He didn't, however, have any bright ideas as to what he wanted to do. It was almost two in the morning, so he felt a little stupid for a moment, keeping Isaac up and out so late, but then he remembered, with a slight twist in his stomach, that Isaac had no one to answer to, no one to wake up when he went home. Isaac was talking to him, probably asking what he wanted to do, but Stiles wasn't really listening, still distracted by the idea of Isaac going to sleep... well, wherever it was that he lived now, but certainly somewhere empty and dark and quiet. Suddenly, he didn't feel much like doing anything and he wanted to go home. He muttered some half-assed excuse and started to leave.

 

He was halfway across the field when he heard steps behind him, approaching at an incredible speed. He had about four seconds to be frightened to death before he realized it was Isaac, who was now standing next to him, one hand reaching out to Stiles, but frozen in mid-air, like Isaac had changed his mind at the last second and then didn't know what to do with his arm. Stiles frowned at it, confused and then looked up at Isaac's face; Isaac was looking down at him, his eyebrows drawn a little closer together, his eyes a little shifty, and his teeth just showing where they held his bottom lip pinched and to this day Stiles doesn't know how someone so tall and strong could look so small and downright scared, but Isaac _did_ and somehow the air around them was different and Stiles just _knew_ something was coming.

 

But then Isaac just dropped his arm to his side and stammered something that was pretty close to _Can I walk you home_ , but Stiles couldn't be sure because it was all said in one breath and really, really quietly, and it _felt_ like Isaac was asking something else, something more important, and Stiles had no clue what to do. And then it happened. One moment Isaac was standing in front of him awkwardly, looking kind of like his own body was too big for him, and the next Isaac was leaning in, his hands balled into fists, and he was kissing Stiles and Stiles was so shocked that for a long time he didn't even respond, but then Isaac was moving away and Stiles had to do something about it, so he kissed back. It was absolutely terrible, wet and sloppy, with too much tongue and no finesse at all; Isaac's lips were too soft against his, inexperienced and insecure, and Stiles didn't know what to do with the rest of his body _again_ , but Isaac didn't seem much better than him anyway. All in all it was a god awful mess, and Stiles regrets not a single nanosecond of it.

 

Isaac did end up walking him home then. They didn't talk and they didn't hold hands and they didn't even really look at each other. Every once in a while their hands would brush together and Stiles would feel like an electric current went right through him. Sometimes he would look at Isaac, for just a brief moment, and he'd catch Isaac looking at him and they'd both blush and look away. When they got to Stiles' house, they stood at the front door, Isaac's hands in his pockets and Stiles' pressed to his legs where he could feel their warm dampness and the nervous twitching of his fingers. He couldn't stop looking at Isaac, the way he kept swaying back forth almost like he was drawn to Stiles by gravity itself and was just barely resisting it, but at the same time, he couldn't bring himself to look at Isaac's face either, scared from he knew not what. He wanted to say something that would make him sound cool and confident and seductive, but his mouth wouldn't cooperate. He imagined he could still feel the tingling of Isaac's kiss.

 

Of course, they spoke at the same time, and then they both shut up at the same time and Stiles, out of sheer nervousness and embarrassment, started laughing. Soon, Isaac was laughing with him and just like that all the awkwardness was gone. Isaac leaned in and brushed his lips over Stiles', his fingertips running the lightest of touches over Stiles' waist. As soon as Stiles was inside the house and the door was safely closed behind him, he was grinning like a lunatic and he didn't even bother trying to stop himself from touching his lips. They didn't _feel_ any different under his fingers than they did that morning, but Stiles could swear they were.

 

The following morning, Stiles woke up already convinced that he'd dreamt the entire thing. He didn't tell Scott anything and he certainly didn't plan to act any differently than on any other day, but then he saw Isaac leaning against a tree, waiting for them, looking at once nervous and excited, and Stiles' heart skipped a beat. He ignored Scott's quick-fire questions coming from his right and walked to Isaac as quickly as he could without running. Isaac was looking at him the entire time, his eyes never straying, like there was no one else in the world but the two of them. Stiles kissed him hello, put a hand on Isaac's bare forearm, the lean muscles under his palm twitching at the touch; that was when Stiles realized he was well and truly gone. Scott kept giving them odd looks for the rest of the day, but Stiles didn't care, not when Isaac was holding his hand pretty much the entire time.

 

They've been together ever since and it's only been getting better, but not without certain glitches along the way.

 

The first time Isaac was in Stiles' room, for example, sitting on his bed and looking up at him, Stiles couldn't resist kissing him. But then he raised his hand, wanting to touch Isaac, run his fingers over the side of Isaac's face, trace the sharp lines of his cheekbone and jaw; Isaac flinched. Stiles felt it more than he saw it, but he knew it happened, and he lowered his hand immediately. He felt sick to his stomach that Isaac would be scared of him, but then Isaac apologized like it was somehow his fault and Stiles wanted to dig up Isaac's father's body and stab it and burn it, take some revenge for what the man did to Isaac.

 

And then, when Isaac agreed to sleep over and they ended up lying in Stiles' bed and Stiles was biting at Isaac's lips and Isaac's hands were shaking as they moved slowly over Stiles' sides, Stiles rolled them over so that he was lying on top of Isaac, his arms on either side of Isaac's shoulders. Isaac didn't quite panic, but he looked like he wanted nothing more than to bolt out of there. It was sort of a mood-killer, but at least Isaac didn't apologize that time and really, Stiles was perfectly okay just lying next to Isaac, with Isaac's arm around his waist and Isaac's long legs tangled with his.

 

Once he held Isaac's wrist too hard, there was a time when he grabbed Isaac by the upper arm too fast and both of those times, Isaac twisted away from him, an expression of utter fear flashing briefly on his face before he got himself back together. Stiles' mental list of things not to do, or at least to work up to, was growing very quickly in those first few weeks. Perhaps most memorably when something possessed him to push Isaac against a wall and crowd him there. He quickly realized his mistake then, didn't need Isaac's reaction to warn him that time. He apologized profusely and hasn't done it since, even though Isaac told him it was fine more than once.

 

It took them a while to learn each other's boundaries, to get better at functioning together, but they have and it's been weeks since the last time Stiles inadvertently did something that made him want to slap himself. But now he's finding he has a new problem.

 

Stiles knows he's not exactly a typical person, he knows most people don't experience things the way he does. He understands that sometimes his emotions are faster to change and more intense while they last than they are for other people. So it follows that he may express his emotions somewhat differently from the way other people do. This is only a problem when he actually thinks about it. When he's operating on pure instinct, when he's just going with the flow, things tend to end up pretty well. Sometimes he says something that makes Isaac laugh, other times he does something that makes Isaac give him a heartbreakingly fond smile and occasionally he even succeeds in provoking Isaac into pushing him against the nearest flat surface and kissing him until they're both breathing hard and need a moment.

 

But sometimes, he's sitting in econ or French or even detention, bored out of his mind, and his eyes stray to Isaac's broad shoulders somewhere in front of him, or maybe Isaac is reading on Stiles' bed while Stiles sits at his desk, and he sees, just from the corner of his eye, the way Isaac is casually sprawled over his sheets, and he's suddenly struck by just how much he cares about Isaac. It's not just that he's hopelessly in love (though he is), there's more to it; Isaac is also his friend, someone he looks to for help and support and company, for advice and for fun, Isaac is someone he wants to protect from harm (as ridiculous as it sounds, considering their respective species), someone he wants to make happy and keep in his life forever. It's that knowledge that makes his insides twist with both strong affection for Isaac and utter fear of screwing up what they have. _That_ is when things go wrong, when he tries to express _that_ feeling, that kind of love. He inevitably fails, sometimes more and sometimes less spectacularly.

 

And it's not even that he fails at grand gestures like planning trips together or buying an extra special gift. Isaac's already told him he doesn't like surprises and he doesn't want extravagance and that's not who they are anyway, so that's not what Stiles worries about. No, what worries him is his inability to show Isaac how strongly he feels about him on a daily basis.

 

Whenever he has one of his mini epiphanies, whether it happens at school or at home or somewhere in the woods, he is possessed by a strong urge to just grab Isaac and squeeze him and never let go; he wants to hug Isaac so tightly he can't breathe because his ribs are cracked, he wants to pinch Isaac's cheeks until they're numb and kiss him so hard his teeth hurt. He looks at Isaac and wants to punch him because of how perfect he is, wants to punch himself because he can't deal with it.

 

He knows this may not be the most socially acceptable way to express his feelings.

 

He mentions it once to Isaac, asks him if he's ever loved someone so much he wanted to destroy them. It's only after the words are out of his mouth that he remembers this is _Isaac_ he's talking to, Isaac who hasn't had anyone to love him the right way, gently and slowly and carefully, probably ever since his mom died, Isaac whose only remaining family cared for him by forcing him to work, by beating him and throwing things at him and locking him in a freezer in the basement, Isaac who is probably the last person who would ever feel comfortable connecting love to violence in any way.

 

He bites his lip, looks at Isaac and starts to apologize, but Isaac's eyes are distant and glassy and he looks completely lost in his own thoughts and memories. He's sitting on the bed, looking up at Stiles who is standing between his legs, but he's unfocused, eyes staring right through Stiles' head and hands bunching up the covers as he grips them. Stiles is not sure what to do to bring Isaac back to the present reality; instinctively, he raises his hand and presses his open palm, slowly, on the side of Isaac's face. The effect is immediate and comforting because Isaac is back with him. It makes Stiles smile as he runs his thumb over Isaac's bottom lip. Isaac's eyes close and Stiles is perfectly content letting the matter drop without further discussion, until...

 

First Isaac frowns, then he shifts a little closer. He pushes his face just a little further into Stiles' hand and then he sets his shoulders like he's preparing for something difficult. And then he says, so quietly Stiles thinks he's making it up first, _go ahead._ There's a pause where Stiles is not sure how to react and then, _I'll heal, you know_. There's something in his voice that is not quite right and Stiles only gets it when he notices that Isaac is not just holding his sheets, he's ripping them with his claws.

 

And then it hits Stiles that Isaac is afraid. That he thinks Stiles wants to hit him, harm him. That he probably doesn't even realize how damn fucked up it is that he expects that from a person who says they care for him.

 

But Isaac doesn't get it, he doesn't understand that Stiles doesn't want to hurt him, would never hurt him intentionally, he just... he just doesn't quite know what to do with himself sometimes. But in that particular moment, he just sits on one of Isaac's thighs, runs his hands lightly over Isaac's arms down to his hands which he holds gently, ignoring the claws that are still out. He kisses Isaac softly and doesn't stop until Isaac's hands, back to their human form now, are tentatively resting on his hips and Isaac doesn't look quite so scared anymore.

 

Nothing happens for a while after that until Stiles forgets himself a few weeks later when he sees Isaac leaning against his locker, waiting for him before their first period. He's pressing Isaac back into the lockers and kissing him in full view of the entire hallway before he's even thought about it. It's one of those moments when he feels like he loves Isaac so much he wants to absorb him into his own skin, so his hands are on Isaac's face keeping it firmly in place with way more strength than necessary. When they part, Stiles' hands relax and fall to Isaac's shoulders and he expects to be met with fear again, but Isaac is watching him like he's the most precious thing in the world, smiling dopily and looking a little like he's high. The bell rings, startling them, and even running to class they just barely make it, but Stiles can't stop laughing because Isaac's holding his hand the entire time.

 

Isaac asks him later, when he's lying on top of Stiles, the unnaturally warm skin of his back soft under Stiles' hands, his thigh a firm pressure on Stiles' groin, he whispers breathlessly in Stiles' ear, _it's different, isn't it_ , and Stiles comes so hard he barely feels Isaac's teeth sinking into his neck. He wakes up with a hickey the size of Texas and thinks Isaac might be starting to get it.

 

The next time they're alone and Isaac feels like punching himself in the stomach from how perfect Isaac is, he practically skips over to Isaac, puts a hand on each side of Isaac's face and squishes it as hard as he can. Isaac laughs, a deep rumbling sound that carries through Stiles' insides when Isaac pulls him closer and hugs him. Stiles hugs back as tightly as he can and when Isaac relaxes in his arms it feels like they're melting together and _that_ is exactly the feeling Stiles has been chasing all along, even if he didn't realize it before.

 

It becomes a thing between them, that sometimes Stiles is totally overwhelmed by the intensity of his own emotions and lets them out by squeezing, squishing and smushing any part of Isaac he can get his hands on. He's pretty sure he breaks one of Isaac's fingers at one point, but Isaac doesn't say anything (flexes his hand and smiles at Stiles) and it's weird that Stiles can finally do these things and have someone understand them for what they are – a way for him to show that he _cares_.

 

Isaac understands that now, Stiles can see it in his eyes every time Isaac smiles one of his brilliant, lopsided smiles at him, but he himself never does anything similar. Isaac is always painfully careful and gentle and slow, even when Stiles doesn't want him to be; when Stiles mentions it, Isaac admits that he's scared he'll hurt Stiles. It surprises Stiles that the thought didn't even occur to him, so used had he become to having the freedom to be a little rough. Isaac adds quickly, _I'm not afraid of_ you _though._

 

So Stiles is not very good at traditional displays of affection, he can't deny that. It seems to be okay though. Isaac is not really good at receiving traditional displays of affection anyway, but he _is_ good at speaking Stiles-ese, so they're all good. Instead, Isaac lets Stiles do weird things to his face and Stiles pulls him into bone-breaking bear-hugs every time he feels like it. Scott laughs at them and Isaac says Derek thinks they're weird. But it works for them.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading ^^


End file.
